Then and Now
by mrfahrenheidt
Summary: Dean accidentally gets himself thrown back into the past. Specifically to the time when he told Castiel to leave the bunker.
1. Chapter 1

It started out fine.

Dean and Sam were investigating the deaths happening in Independence. Local news said the victims were attacked by a wild animal. And from the police report, they found out that there were claw marks on the bodies, and the victims' hearts were missing.

"It's gotta be a werewolf," Dean lowered his voice, mindful that they were in a police station and the cops around them. Dean's opinion made sense, but Sam kept his eyes on the file in his hand, flipping from one page to another as the frown on his face was becoming more prominent.

He placed the file down when he was done with the reading, before looking at Dean. Sam seemed troubled. "I don't think it's a werewolf," he concluded, picking up a photograph from the file and showed it to Dean. It was a close-up picture of a wooden table smeared with blood. In the middle of it was a small item, covered with a blue cloth with strange symbols on it. "See, there's a hex bag," Sam added.

It was Dean who was frowning then. "So what, you're saying this is a witch's doing? Why would a witch take that many hearts for?"

"I don't know," Sam shrugged. "But, do you remember when Alicia and her brother Max called us for help?"

"To find their mother. Yeah, I remember," Dean nodded, face somber. It was tragic what had happened to Alicia and her mother. They didn't deserve to die, they were good people. He only hoped that Max was alright, because the last time he and Sam saw the kid, Max looked... empty. Silence overcame them as they thought about the unfortunate family. Dean didn't dwell on it too long, however. They had a case to solve and monsters to kill after all. He cleared his throat, "but we killed the puppetmaster. And if this were the same case with the same perp, the bodies would have been hidden and replaced by impostors made out of twigs. Which, there are none."

They resumed passing opinions back and forth when they walked out from the police station. Then decided to visit some of the victims' families for more information. But they got nothing that could help them find the witch. So, Sam suggested to call it a day. "We could pick this up tomorrow," Sam reasoned.

Dean was actually okay with it. He shrugged and said, "Yeah, sure. I'm tired of posing as a fed for a whole day anyway."

They made it to their room at the motel as the sun started to set. Immediately, Dean took the first turn to go to the bathroom. Sam, on the other hand, chose to take a seat at a small table across the room and opened his laptop. He wanted to review the information they had accumulated from the beginning. It was a few minutes after Dean getting out from the bathroom that Sam broke the silence, "dude," he started. "I think I've got it."

"Well, don't leave me hanging," Dean approached the table, looking over Sam's shoulder at the screen of the laptop while drying his hair with the towel in his hand. "What is it?"

Sam explained that he managed to find solid proof from the street cameras where the victims were last seen. Turns out it was really a witch who was killing people and taking their hearts. The hex bags—like the ones found at the crime scenes—appeared to be used to make the captives silent and compliant. To top it all, she used a werewolf to do her dirty work.

"Well then, let's go hunt a witch and her pet werewolf," Dean looked excited as he grabbed his weapons from the duffel bag.

* * *

The Winchester brothers found their targets in an abandoned warehouse.

"It's always a warehouse. Why is it always a warehouse?" Dean grumbled, and Sam rolled his eyes after hearing it. Shortly after, the two hunters barged in from the front door, guns ready in hands.

* * *

The witch and werewolf were quite strong. With her spells and the werewolf's supernatural strength, it took more time than usual for the boys to take them out. But in the end, they won. Sure, Sam and Dean were bleeding and bruised and not to mention exhausted to the point they could just sleep there, but it was worth it. They successfully defeated the monsters that had been terrorizing the area.

Dean walked closer toward the corpse of the witch. He kicked the side of her head lightly. Sam huffed, somewhat amused, from behind him. "Is that really necessary?" The younger Winchester asked. He felt too sore to move, so he stayed sitting on the floor with his back against the wall.

"Just checking if she's really dead," Dean answered, sounding tired but pleased. He stopped looking at the lifeless body when he heard his brother groan. "You okay there, Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam tried to move but stopped midway. His face scrunched in pain. A second later, he slumped back against the wall once more as he sighed. "Ugh. It's a bit difficult to move. My ribs hurt."

"Oh, come on. She didn't hit you that hard, did she?" Dean teased. The face Sam made caused the older Winchester to laugh. Dean made his way toward his brother, intending to help him stand, but paused when he saw the expression on his brother's face suddenly changed. "Sam, what's wrong?" Dean asked, beginning to feel concern. But Sam was not looking at Dean, he was looking at something that started to glow behind his older brother. The faint purple light reflected in Sam's eyes.

"Look behind you," Sam answered, not taking his eyes off of whatever was behind his brother. This was the point when things took the wrong turn. Dean, curious and a bit wary, turned his back. He saw the body of the witch still in the same position, still lifeless, but the pendant that she wore was growing brighter and brighter. And it started to float in the air.

"What the hell?" Dean said, incredulously. This seemed dangerous, so he took a step back. He wanted to leave, but at the same time, he wanted to see what would happen. Then Sam's voice made the decision for him.

"Dean, we should leave."

"Right, right," Dean breathed out, taking another step back. He should listen to Sam, get himself and his brother out of here before anything wrong happen. The way the pendant was flickering definitely was not a good sign.

But too bad for him, the pendant exploded and filled the warehouse with a blinding light before he could get Sam to safety.

* * *

"Ugh."

When he came to, the first thing he noticed was the cloudless blue sky. The ground under him didn't feel hard or even flat. There was grass around him. He was no longer in the warehouse. "Where the hell..." Dean muttered, confusion written all over his face. Slowly he sat up, looking over the expanse of land. All he could see were rows of trees and a small dirt road. But everything about this environment seemed familiar to him.

Then it clicked.

"Isn't this the way back to the bunker?" He asked nobody in particular. Shouldn't he still be in the warehouse? He didn't remember leaving the place. Sam had been injured, and he was about to carry his brother back to Baby when- Dean's eyes widened.

The pendant.

_This must be because of it_, Dean thought silently.

Dean took out a phone from his pocket. He tried to turn it on, but it didn't start. There was a spiderweb crack on the corner top of the screen, probably broken the phone while fighting the werewolf. Dean let out a frustrated sigh as he threw the phone away. With him unable to contact Sam, the only option left for him was to walk back to the bunker, take a vehicle, then get back to the warehouse to trace back his steps before the explosion. And to find Sam.

It took him a few hours before Dean finally saw the bunker ahead. He looked up at the building as he wiped the sweats that had been oozing down his neck with the shirt he was wearing. Dean was about to continue walking when he heard the bunker door being opened, and two individuals made their way out.

It's Castiel and _what the ever-loving fuck why am I there?_ Dean felt his hackles rising up. He wanted to intervene, to yell for Castiel to move away from the fake him. But at the same time, he felt like he shouldn't because this scene was too familiar for him. The clothes the fake Dean and Castiel wore. The wry smile on his friend's face and the bag he was carrying...

It's like re-watching a scene of his life from a different viewpoint.

He remembered it very well. This was the time when Gadreel had threatened to leave if Castiel stayed. His fingers clenched to a fist, nails digging in his palm, but Dean wasn't feeling it. He wondered if this was some kind of hallucinations created by the pendant. If it was, then it sucked, because this was one of the many bad memories that he'd rather forget. Castiel might have forgiven him, but Dean still couldn't forgive himself for leaving his only best friend out there on his own.

Although he couldn't hear the interaction, he knew what the other Dean was saying. He offered Cas a ride. But Cas shook his head. The other him looked reluctant to leave Castiel, but he didn't do anything except nodding his head. Dean watched them say their goodbyes, before the other him returning back into the bunker.

Castiel stood there for a moment, just looking at the door. Even from this distance, Dean could see the sadness in his eyes, and it was heartbreaking.

He couldn't watch this anymore.

"Let me out of this goddamn hallucination!" He shouted angrily, facing upwards. "I don't wanna be here in the first place!"

Dean stood still, closing his eyes and waited for something to happen. A few seconds went by, yet nothing had changed even after opening his eyes. Dean ruffled his hair out of frustration. He didn't know what to do.

"Dean?"

A deep voice broke the silence.

Startled, Dean snapped his head to see where the voice had come from. And _surprise, surprise_, Castiel was just a few feet away, and he was looking at Dean with that trademark head tilt of his as if was contemplating. Cas must've heard Dean's yell before.

Unsure that this Cas was talking to him, Dean turned to look behind him to check whether there was someone else there or not.

Nobody was behind him.

"Uh," he began, eyeing Castiel. "You're talking to me?"

"You're not from this time," Cas ignored Dean's question. "Why are you here?"

It took Dean a moment to process what his angel friend had just said.

"Hold up- you're- I'm-" he paused to take a breath. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "This isn't a hallucination?"

"This is very much real, Dean," Castiel placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, and _yeah_, he could feel it.

Apparently, the pendant didn't show him the past but instead threw him back in time. In this time, Sam wasn't alright, but at least he was recovering with Gadreel's help. It was the Sam in his own time that he was worried about.

"I shouldn't be here," Dean said, looking distressed. "I gotta get back to the future."

Interacting with people from the past could lead to altercation of the future - more so if any information about major future events were shared. And as much as he wanted to change the past, he had learned not to meddle with time. Too bad, he'd accidentally let himself known to Cas.

Just his luck.

Pulling his hand back, Castiel asked again, "why are you here, Dean?"

"I was on a hunt with Sam," Dean exhaled. Might as well tell the truth. "We were fighting a witch and her werewolf sidekick. We killed them, but then this pendant on the witch's neck started to glow and float. The last thing I remember, there was an exploding light. And then I woke up here."

Cas was silent for a few seconds. "How does this pendant look like?"

"Purple stone, shaped like a drop of water," that was as much as Dean could remember. He'd been too busy trying to kill the witch to notice any details of her appearance. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I seem to recall Heaven was looking for a lost artifact with a fourth dimension manipulation ability. The Pendant of Time, blessed by the Norns themselves," Cas answered. "What you described, it matched the description."

"Well, I guess that's your item then," Dean sighed. "If it weren't for that pendant, I wouldn't be here."

The pendant brought him to this time. That means it can bring him back as well. The first thing he had to do: locate the damn thing. With that mental note, he returned his attention back to his angel friend. "So, Cas-"

"I'll help you find it," Castiel cut in, looking Dean in the eyes full with determination.

"But," _why do you still want to help me when I just kicked you out of the bunker? _Initially, that's what he wanted to ask, but all that came out was, "why."

"Because I want to help. Because you need it. So let me, Dean."

Castiel, ever the caring. Dean became silent and seemed overcome with sadness, though he tried his best to keep it in. "Listen, Cas," he started. "What I did back then..." He didn't know how to convey what he felt. How horrible he felt. But Castiel seemed to understand.

"It's alright," Cas said, drawing closer to Dean. "I know you did what you thought was best. After all, I have a target behind my back, and everyone wants me dead. I'm a danger to those around me."

Dean looked down, unable to meet the intense stare of Castiel's eyes.

"I'm okay with it," the angel reaffirmed. Nevertheless, guilt was still gnawing at Dean's mind.

"I'm sorry, Cas."

"You only did what you had to," Castiel said with a smile, unperturbed.

Dean knew that. He'd heard Cas say the same thing to him before—or in this case, in the future—yet he couldn't help but blame himself when he thought about it. He looked at Cas earnestly, and there was a hint of regret and guilt in his green eyes.

Castiel looked back at him, the soft smile on his face hadn't waned. Then, after a few seconds of silence, Cas spoke up, "So, where do you think we should start?"


	2. Chapter 2

At first, Dean was reluctant to let Castiel join him on a hunt for the witch. He was afraid with Cas going on his way to help Dean, things that should have happened in this time might not happen, and who knew what that could entail for the future.

Then he remembered the time when Cas had been working at the Gas-N-Sip. _I failed at being an angel_, Cas had said at that time. _Everything I attempted came out wrong_.

He could fix this particular memory for the better. Take Cas with him to hunt a witch rather than leaving him to work at that small place. Remembering the angel of the Lord's blue vest and how serious he was when arranging items on the shelf left a bad taste in Dean's mouth. Castiel is above all that.

In a way, this hunt was Dean making amends for kicking Cas out.

And this time he would help Cas however he could before going back to his own time.

* * *

After their heart-to-heart talk and Castiel's declaration to help Dean, the two men walked further away from the bunker and continued to walk until Dean saw the car on the side of the road.

He proceeded to tamper with it while Castiel kept a lookout.

Then they drove away from Lebanon. The seat of the car was hard and uncomfortable, and he'd prefer it if he could drive his own car, but he couldn't possibly take Baby with him because she was still back in the bunker with his past self.

"What's on your mind, Dean?" Cas asked from beside him. "You look sullen."

"I don't look sullen," Dean protested with a slight bite in his tone, shooting a glance at Cas before returning his eyes back on the road. The frown on his face softened. "It's just, I miss driving my Baby."

Castiel nodded. "Certainly, this car isn't as nice or as comfortable as yours."

"Right?" Dean's lips curled up into a grin. One hand stayed on the steering wheel while another picked up a compact disc from storage compartment between the driver's and passenger's seat, showing it to Cas. "Check this out," he added. "I mean really, _Iggy Azalea_? Whoever owns this car has no taste in music."

Cas wasn't laughing, but there was a hint of smile adorning his face, and that was enough for Dean.

* * *

After hours on the road, they'd finally pulled into the almost empty parking lot of another fleabag motel. This was the closest motel Dean could find to the neighborhood where he and Sam had killed the witch and the werewolf.

Castiel was waiting by the car as Dean checked them in; one room for two people. After several minutes, he returned and motioned the angel to follow him to the stairs along the side of the building.

Their room was on the second floor at the end of the hallway. Dean unlocked the door and walked inside, followed by Castiel. Unlike the usual double room they are in, this place surprisingly looked clean—no strange stains everywhere he saw—and no funny smells. Dean immediately claimed the bed closest to the door, throwing himself down onto the covers without caring that he was still wearing his shoes. Later on, he heard Castiel shutting the door and the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor.

"Finally," Dean muttered as he closed his eyes momentarily. The exhaustion due to the long walk and hours of driving was finally catching up to him. But instead of letting sleep take him over, he forced his eyes open a slit, and from there he saw a pair of dirty sneakers beside his bed. Dean opened his eyes a little wider and craned his neck slightly, enough to follow the line of blue jeans to the person who sat on the bed next to his. Castiel was openly staring at him—which was not unusual—but it made Dean feeling self-conscious. "Something on my face, Cas?" Dean croaked.

The angel stared at him a few more seconds, before easing out a breath. "Talk to me, Dean," he rested his hands on his knees. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"No, you're not," Castiel seemed sure with the answer. "We've been friends for years. I can tell when you're not telling the truth."

Dean remained silent, green eyes staring back at Cas' blue ones. It didn't take long before he heaved a sigh as he moved to sit up at the edge of his bed, facing the other. "I... yeah. I'm not fine. I'm stuck in this time for who knows how long and I don't even know if my brother is okay or not. And I'm not talking about Sam from this time— he'll get through this eventually. I'm talking about Sam in my time."

It became easy to talk to Cas once he admitted that he was not alright. Like a collapsed dam, Dean spilled about how troubled he was with the situation that he was in. He was worried about Sam because the last time he'd seen his brother, he'd been wounded. Sure they'd faced worse things before, but it didn't mean Dean would ever stop worrying. Sam could be here too in the past, but he didn't have a way to know. He was also concerned his presence would affect the future, and who'd know what would change because of this.

(He didn't tell Cas that something had changed already, what with Cas being here with him.)

Castiel is a good listener. He didn't interfere—instead, he provided enough space for Dean to let it all out. He listened with attentiveness, giving Dean his complete thoughtful and non-judgemental concentration. For once, Dean didn't mind being emotionally vulnerable in front of the angel for a change. But he was still unable to look up at Cas' face while pouring his heart out. It would be too much for him to handle if he had to look at those caring eyes. "I have to get back in my time as fast as I can," Dean looked at his own shoes intently. "Can't stay here too long, Cas."

"I understand," Castiel touched Dean's knee with one hand, making him look up—in a slight surprise—to face the angel. "We'll get the pendant, Dean," Cas said earnestly.

Just one look at Cas' blue eyes and Dean could practically hear the erratic thudding of his heart against the ribcage, and it confused him. He didn't know—wouldn't want to acknowledge the reason—why he was reacting like this. But he knew for sure that he was uncomfortable, and he needed to get out and get some fresh air. "Yeah," Dean nodded, before standing up from his bed and making his way to the door. "I'm gonna get us something to eat first," he added without waiting for Cas' response. A second later, he was out the door, inhaling the cold and crisp air, leaving a perplexed angel all by himself inside their shared motel room.

* * *

Dean had been out for an hour or so. By the time he returned, Cas had fallen asleep on the bed, over the covers, wearing only a pair of boxers and a white t-shirt. Cas had left his jacket and jeans folded neatly on a nightstand between the beds, and his shoes lined up by the door to the bathroom.

He could hear soft snores coming from Cas. Dean tried his best to stifle his laugh as he silently closed the front door and padded over to a table at the opposite side of the two beds. But his effort not to wake his angel friend went in vain when he placed down the plastic bags—which contains foods—on the table, and it created a sound loud enough to awake the angel. "Dean?" Castiel's voice was rough. He raised his head, bleary eyes slowly opening to look at where the sound had come from.

"Yeah, it's me," Dean answered, somewhat sheepish. "Sorry to wake you, Cas."

"It's..." a yawn escaped the black-haired angel's lips. "It's alright."

It was a bit unsettling to watch his friend, who used to be so strong and seemed indestructible, to be looking very human. But Dean decided not to think about it too much. Besides, it wasn't like this was going to be permanent. "I brought food," Dean took out two oyster pails from the plastic bags. "Couldn't find any good hamburger place, so it's Chinese tonight. Lo mein. You're gonna love it."

Castiel wiped the sleep from his eyes and tried to suppress another yawn. "Smells good," he said, approaching the table. Dean sat on one of the chairs while Cas took a seat on the other one. The angel seemed confused as he picked up the chopsticks. "How do you..."

Dean chuckled. "I'll show you. First, you have to do this," he took his own chopsticks out from the bag, splitting them in two. Castiel nodded and did the same. Then Dean placed one chopstick on the knuckle of his ring finger and set another one against the knuckle of his middle finger. These were simple instructions, so Castiel managed to follow it with no problem. It was the grabbing-the-noodle part that Cas seemed to have difficulties with. Whenever he tried to bring the noodles to his mouth, they always fell down.

Seeing the struggle, Dean couldn't hold his laughter.

"It's not funny, Dean."

"It is!" Dean cackled. "You should've seen your face."

Castiel, Angel of the Lord, once led a celestial army, couldn't eat with chopsticks. Dean snorted, which earned a glare from his companion. He didn't feel sorry, though. "Alright, here," finally taking pity on Cas, Dean pulled out a white fork from the plastic bag and passed it over to the angel. "Just use this one."

"No."

_Did Cas just_— "no?"

"I shall keep trying with these 'chopsticks' until I can pick up the noodles."

Dean shrugged in a_ what can I do_ gesture. "Whatever you say, buddy."

* * *

It took Castiel quite a long time to get a handle on using the chopsticks correctly. By the time he was able to eat with said utensils, Dean had long finished his food and now was lying on his bed.

"I can eat with chopsticks now," there was an almost palpable smile in his voice.

Dean rearranged his position slightly so he'd be able to look at Cas. The food was probably cold by now, but that didn't seem to deter the angel's enthusiasm in eating it. "Well, good for you," he responded. A smile slowly made its way into his face without him knowing. Cas' happiness was contagious.

Castiel finally noticed that Dean had been staring at him, so he slowed down. "Would you like some?"

Dean schooled his expression back to neutral as he blinked a few times rapidly. He'd been caught, and it embarrassed him. "Uh, no," Dean feigned a cough and immediately looked away, watching the ceiling, as if the plain white drywall interested him. He decided to think about something else to get rid of the blush from his face. Such as the current situation he was in, and possible solutions that could help him not to mess up the timeline any more than he already had. So, while lying on the bed with the yellowish light from the bedside lamp streaming over him, Dean made a mental list of events that had and would happen around this time.

Crowley was imprisoned in the dungeon of the bunker. Kevin struggled to interpret the Angel Tablet.

(He firmly pushed the thought about Kevin's impending death from his mind.)

The past had been changed, even just a little. Cas wasn't a sales associate at a Gas-N-Sip, thanks to Dean.

He remembered after Cas' departure from the bunker, the whole thing with the Wicked Witch happened. He and Sam (and Charlie) found out that Oz is a real place.

(Dean swallowed a lump in his throat. Charlie had died too, but Gadreel had been there to bring her back.)

Then he and Sam handled a case in Enid, Oklahoma. He was able to talk to animals, which, now that he was thinking about it, it was kind of funny. He wondered how Colonel the dog was. Probably was still with his owner.

After that, he'd gotten a call from Cas about a case. Four missing people in Rexford, Idaho. Turns out those people were turned into tiny, micro little pieces with a touch of a hand from a rogue angel named Ephraim. With Cas here occupied with a witch hunt, the past Dean might not get the news, which means at some point later Dean had to notify his past self about the missing persons. Anonymously, of course.

(Might need to share some more vital pieces of information too because this time, the past Dean would work alone instead of with Castiel.)

Then he remembered about Abaddon, still alive and kicking during this time. Great.

Dean sighed and threw an arm over his eyes. He decided to rest for now and deal with everything tomorrow.

"Turn the lights off after you're done, alright?"

Castiel _hmm-ed_, swallowing his food before answering, "I will."

"Okay. Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."


	3. Chapter 3

The sun had risen when Dean woke up. Warm morning light filtered through the drawn curtains. For several minutes he lay on his bed, eyes half opened as they tried to adjust to the sunlight. He finally sat up and let out a deep breath, looking to the side where Castiel was still sleeping on the other bed. The frown lines that Dean had thought was a permanent fixture on the angel's face were barely visible with how calm he looked in his sleep.

As quietly as he could, Dean slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom. He closed the door and began his morning routine: take a shower and brush his teeth. He would've wanted to shave as well had he brought a razor with him. Unfortunately, he got thrown back to the past with only his wallet and the clothes on his back.

Castiel was up by the time Dean walked out of the bathroom. His black hair was in disarray, and the corners of his eyes were crusted with sleep, in contrast to Dean's fresh appearance. "Morning, sleepyhead," the brunet greeted and got an incomprehensible grunt in return. Castiel moved to sit slumped with his back against the headrest, head lolling to the side. Now that Dean was paying attention, there were dark circles under Cas' eyes and his shirt damp with sweat.

"Did you sleep well?" Dean asked.

"I did, yes."

It was a lie, and Dean knew it. Judging by Cas' condition, he'd had a nightmare. But because he didn't want to ruin a reasonably good morning, he chose not to pry. After all, it didn't look like that Cas wanted to talk about it. "I'm gonna head out for a bit. What do you want for breakfast?"

Castiel seemed to think, or maybe he was sleeping there—Dean couldn't tell. "I'll have whatever you have," he finally said.

"Got it."

* * *

Dean had left, and now Castiel was all alone in the room, only accompanied by his thoughts. His mind wandered back to the nightmare that had disturbed his sleep last night. It was about the fall; how every single one of his brothers and sisters had blamed him and wanted him to die for what he'd done. Metatron had been in it too, laughing and mocking him. Castiel shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows rested on his knees and palms over his face. It was just a nightmare, but nonetheless, it left him feeling awful. After all, he was the cause of the banishment of the angels from Heaven.

Standing up, Castiel made his way into the bathroom. He took off the shirt and boxers and stepped into the shower. The warm water felt nice against his skin, washing away the sweat and strange feelings of hollow and despondency that had been settling over him ever since Dean had gone out. He took his time in the shower, but even until he was done, Dean hadn't gone back yet. So he just sat down on a chair in silence, waiting for the hunter's return.

It was about two hours later that Dean was finally back, carrying two bags in hand. The small one contained food—Castiel could see the word Biggerson's on it—but he was unable to determine what was in the much bigger one. "Sorry, it took so long, had to go somewhere first," Dean placed the food bag on the table in front of Castiel. "Two burgers and fries. One's mine though, so don't take it all."

"And what's in that, Dean?" The angel asked, directing his gaze toward the other bag.

"Oh, this?" Dean opened it so Cas could peer inside. "Some clothes for me. And suits. One for me and one for you."

"Me?"

"Yeah," Dean put the bag at the foot of the table, then taking a seat on a chair opposite to Cas. "We might need to pretend to be feds. So, yeah, just in case."

After that, they ate in companionable silence, and Castiel found himself huff in amusement as he witnessed Dean's terrible table manners. He ate like a hungry animal.

_Oops_. Did Castiel just say that out loud?

Dean took offense to that. So he snatched a few of Cas' fries in retaliation, popping it into his mouth.

"You can't do that," Castiel protested good-naturedly.

"I'll do whatever I want, buddy," Dean replied when he hadn't even swallowed the food in his mouth. It was gross, and it was so Dean that it made Castiel smile with fond exasperation. He proceeded to eat his food and at the same time, guarding his fries against Dean.

* * *

They'd finished their breakfast and changed their clothes into the suits that Dean had bought. While waiting for Cas to finish fixing his tie in front of the bathroom's mirror, Dean sat on the bed, reading a newspaper he'd brought from outside. "So listen to this; an artifact is stolen from the national museum, blah blah blah, the ministry's director-general for culture said the missing artifact was a necklace with a sugilite gemstone jewel in the shape of a water drop. Must be the pendant," Dean put the newspaper beside him and watched as Cas fumbled with the tie. "You listening, Cas?"

"Yes. Just a moment," Castiel sounded annoyed, and he looked like he was about to throw the tie away and be done with it. Dean let out a long sigh, walking over to stand behind the angel. He decided to assist Cas.

"Here's how you do it," peering over Castiel shoulder, Dean loosened the tie from the ridiculous knot. Occasionally his eyes flickered toward the mirror to see how the tie looked around Cas' neck as he looped it in a perfect Kelvin knot. "And, there," after deeming it presentable, Dean tugged the tie into place.

Dean looked at his and Cas' reflection in the mirror and realized a little bit too late how intimate this looked. His chest was almost pressing Cas' back, arms around the slightly shorter angel and their cheeks just inches away from one another. If Dean turned his head even just a little to the side...

"Dean," Cas' voice was quiet, almost a whisper as if he was afraid to ruin the moment. He looked confused, surprised, excited, hopeful—Dean couldn't tell which. Who was thinking anyway?—as their eyes met in the mirror. He should've stepped back and moved away, but a sudden onslaught of need kept him there. Dean's Adam apple bobbed convulsively when he swallowed, his heart racing with how intense Cas was staring at him.

In his entire life, he'd never felt desire like this. Or the desperation to touch, to hold tight, and to own.

He wanted to kiss Cas and the way Cas looked at him, he started to think that Cas also wanted him to. And it scared him, scared that he might've read the situation wrong because no way that Cas would want him _that _way. Scared that he might lose the only friend he'd ever had if he listened to his heart. After all, it's an undeniable fact that the Winchesters never had any luck in romance. Cassie, his first love, had broken up with him after he told her the truth about his life. Lisa had no memories of him and the years they'd spent together. Robin had moved on.

Dean drifted his gaze down, staring thoughtfully at the sink. Eventually, he retracted his hands and put some distance between him and Cas. "I'll meet you in the car," he turned and left Cas alone in the bathroom.

* * *

The car ride was tense, and Dean was silent the whole time, only focusing on the road. He tried to forget about what had transpired in the motel bathroom, yet his mind kept returning to that moment, thinking about what could have been, what should have been.

Cas opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Dean turned up the radio. A trick that he always did to Sam whenever his brother tried to talk about something he didn't particularly want to discuss. It seemed to work on Cas, too.

The angel sighed, long and weary, accustomed to Dean's mood swings and reluctance to discuss anything related to feelings, even just remotely. He looked out the window at the passing buildings with an expression of a defeated man on his face. Castiel was resigned to the fact that he would never be able to talk about it with Dean at this moment, in this car.

That didn't mean he wouldn't look for an opportunity to bring this up again when the chance arose.

The car slowed down once the museum building was within sight. Pulling into an almost empty parking lot, Dean parked the car to the side. Then he turned off the radio along with the engine. The sudden lack of noise left his ears slightly ringing.

Before meeting anyone inside the building, he had to make sure he looked good, so he turned the rearview mirror toward himself and started fixing up his hair. But then Cas interrupted him.

"Dean."

With a frown, the hunter looked at him. "Listen, Cas, there's nothing to ta-"

"It's not that," Cas interjected, "I don't have a badge."

The deep-knit furrows of Dean's brow relaxed and smoothed themselves, and the rest of his features became less tense. "Don't worry about it," he informed. "I had ours made yesterday."

He pulled out one black wallet contained a fake badge and identification card. Before giving it to Cas, he flipped it open and checked the photo ID to make sure he didn't provide Cas a wrong one.

"Here you go, agent Reimers," he handed the wallet over to Cas, who took it and inspected the name on the fake identification card. _Bill Reimers_ was Cas' undercover name.

"If I am Bill Reimers," Cas pocketed the wallet. "Does that mean you're Chris Lecce?"

"Yes it does," with a crooked smile on his face, Dean opened the door and stepped out of the car. "Come on, let's get this show on the road."

* * *

The director of the museum was confused when the front guard informed that there were two FBI agents wanted to talk to her about the incident regarding the stolen artifact. She'd thought that the case had already been handled by the local police. Dean convinced her that he and his partner Cas was only there to follow-up, and she believed him. Ultimately she gave him and Cas free rein to look around and ask any of the staff a few questions. The two 'agents' split up afterward so they could cover more ground.

* * *

"I heard from the janitor that he saw a strange man lurking outside the building after closing hours," Dean told Cas once he was done questioning the staff. They were both inside the surveillance control room with televisions mounted on the wall and a curved desk facing the screens with one computer keyboard on it. Cas was sitting on a chair, elbows on the counter and body leaning forward. He was busy checking the video surveillance recordings while Dean perched on the edge of the desk. "Could be our guy," Dean added.

"Yes. There was indeed a strange man outside the building," Cas pressed a key of the keyboard, and on one of the television screens, a grainy image showed the front side of the building where there was a man dressed in all black, face obscured by a baseball cap. He just stood there for quite a long time before walking away. "And not just in this particular video. He was sighted on other locations of the museum as well," Cas informed as he changed the channel and the screen showed the same man with the same clothing inside the building, mingling himself with a crowd of tourists during work hours.

"When's this?" Asked Dean.

Cas looked closer to the screen to check the date, "a day before the incident."

"Hm," Dean's lips pressed together to create a thin line, eyes glued on the screen. "He's canvassing the area. Checking every exit and the number of guards in the museum. Doing a half-assed job of it, though."

"Why do you say that?" Cas asked, curious.

"Body language. The way he looks around. Suspicious move."

Dean guessed the reason he didn't try too hard to blend in with the crowd was that he had a witch as his back up.

After that, Cas played another recording – the day when the artifact was stolen. It was shown on the screen how the man took the pendant; he simply walked to the front entrance, knocked a guard out by saying something—a spell, Dean and Cas guessed—proceeded to step inside and incapacitated another guard. Then he broke the glass box display to take the pendant, before running off to the back. A minute later, cops rushed in, but they were too late.

The amount of information they had gotten from the museum was not much, but it was enough for Dean to have an idea where they should investigate next.

He went to the direction where the unidentified man was last seen—the back door of the museum. He pushed the door open and walked through. Behind the museum building was another parking space for the staff, surrounded by a chain-link fence and a gate that led to the road outside. There were just a few cars parked close to the building. On the other side of the fence was an urban forest, with tall trees and thick clumps of bushes. Dean moved to stand in the middle of the parking area and looked around, a thoughtful look on his face. He was trying to figure out which direction the thief had taken.

Soon afterward, Cas came into view beside Dean, "the suspect did not use nor steal any vehicles when he left with the jewel," apprised Cas. "If he had, it would have appeared in any of the street cameras."

"Which means he left on foot and took a more private route," Dean surmised as he reached the fence and leaped over it with ease. Then, Cas followed, hauling himself over the fence a lot less gracefully primarily because of his suit jacket got stuck on one of the tie wires of the top rail. Dean would've laughed had he noticed, but the guy was busy observing the vicinity, scanning and searching for any possible anomalies, such as footprints, disturbed grass or soil, broken vegetation, or turned over dead leaves.

And eventually, he found it.

"Cas, come check this out," Dean said, grinning.

The angel went to him, and as Cas' shadow fell across him, Dean looked up.

"What is it, Dean?"

"Footprints of man-sized shoes," Dean stood up and pointed. "See, there's a long line of them. Speed-walking, but not running," they both looked in the direction where the footprints headed.

They were getting close, Dean could feel it. His face lit up with the prospect of returning home to where—and when—he belonged. Soon, he would leave this place.

And Cas.

His smile faltered.


End file.
